Chapter 2: The Face of a False God
Mike "The Lens" Wazowski arrived at Golden Era Studios twenty minutes later, looking like he had rolled out of a dryer. He was wearing a faded t-shirt that said 'I Pause My Game to Be Here' and carried a backpack that looked heavy enough to contain a small nuclear device.
"Boss," Mike panted, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I brought the RED Komodo. I grabbed the prime lenses. I even stole—uh, borrowed—the lighting kit before the repo guys showed up. But seriously, is the building haunted? It feels haunted."
Kenji stood by the window, watching the rain wash away the grime of Zenith City. He turned, his eyes burning with an intensity Mike hadn't seen since their college thesis film.
"It's not haunted, Mike. It's empty. And emptiness is just a canvas."
"Okay, spooky," Mike muttered, setting down his gear. "So, what's the plan? We have no money, no actors, no scriptwriters, and thirty days before the bank turns this place into a parking lot. You said 'murder mystery'. Do we have a script?"
Kenji tapped his temple. "It's all in here. But first, we need a cast. And not just any cast, Mike. We need perfection."
"Perfection costs scale rates, Boss. We can barely afford scale for a hamster."
"We don't need union actors," Kenji said, grabbing his coat. "We need souls. Come on. We're going to school."
Zenith University was the Ivy League of this dull, gray world. It was a place where the children of politicians, lawyers, and CEOs went to petrify their dreams into stable careers. The architecture was Neo-Gothic, imposing and severe, designed to make students feel small and obedient.
Kenji and Mike sat on a bench in the main quad, huddled under a shared umbrella.
"We're casting... here?" Mike whispered, looking around at the students rushing to class in their pristine uniforms and expensive coats. "These kids don't do indie films, Kenji. They do internships at Goldman Sachs."
"Exactly," Kenji replied, his eyes scanning the crowd. "We don't need an actor who pretends to be an elite student with a superiority complex. We need an elite student with a superiority complex who is pretending to be a normal person."
He activated the [Casting Radar].
[System Active: Casting Radar (Rank F)]
[Target Character: Light Yagami]
[Scanning...]
The world shifted in Kenji's vision. The gray rain seemed to fade, replaced by a digital overlay. Red crosshairs floated over the heads of the passing students, accompanied by floating percentage bars.
Subject A: Male, 20. Engineering Major. Resonance: 12%. (Too awkward).
Subject B: Male, 21. Pre-Med. Resonance: 35%. (Has the look, lacks the charisma).
Subject C: Male, 19. History. Resonance: 5%. (Too pure).
"Garbage," Kenji muttered. "Garbage. Garbage. Too short. Too nice. Too ugly."
"Boss, you're scaring the freshmen," Mike hissed.
"I need a God, Mike! Not a... wait."
The air in the quad seemed to change. The chatter of students quieted down slightly.
Walking down the steps of the Law Library was a young man. He was tall, with light brown hair that fell perfectly across his forehead. He wore a tan coat over a crisp white shirt. He was talking to a girl who was clearly infatuated with him, and he was smiling—a gentle, polite, dazzling smile.
But Kenji saw it. The System saw it.
Above the young man's head, the text was blinding gold.
[Target Identified]
[Name: Julian Thorne]
[Profile: Top Student, Zenith Law. Son of the Police Chief. National Tennis Champion.]
[Soul Resonance: Light Yagami - 99.9%]
"Jackpot," Kenji whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs.
It was him. The posture. The fake politeness. The deadness behind the eyes that suggested he found the entire world incredibly boring.
"Who's that?" Mike asked, following Kenji's gaze. "Oh, that's Julian Thorne. He's like the Prince of Zenith U. Why? You want him?"
"I'm going to talk to him."
"Kenji, wait! You can't just—"
Kenji was already moving. He intercepted Julian at the bottom of the stairs.
"Excuse me," Kenji said, stepping directly into Julian's path.
Julian stopped. He didn't look annoyed. He looked perfectly patient, which was even more terrifying. "Can I help you?"
"My name is Kenji Sato. I'm a director."
Julian's smile didn't waver, but his eyes glazed over. "Ah. I'm afraid I don't have any change, and I'm late for a lecture—"
"I don't want your money," Kenji said, keeping his voice low. "I want to know if you're bored."
The smile froze. Just for a fraction of a second.
"Excuse me?"
"You're top of your class," Kenji said, reciting the data the System fed him. "You're the national tennis champion. You're the Chief's son. You have the perfect life laid out for you. Law school, a partnership, a trophy wife, a retirement home in the Hamptons. It's perfect." Kenji leaned in. "And you look like you want to scream."
The girl beside Julian looked offended. "Hey! You can't talk to him like that!"
Julian raised a hand, silencing her. He looked at Kenji—really looked at him—for the first time. The polite mask thinned, revealing a razor-sharp intellect beneath.
"And you are?" Julian asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"I'm the guy offering you a game," Kenji said. "A game where you get to play God."
He reached into his bag and pulled out the Special Prop.
The Death Note.
It looked like a simple black notebook. But to Kenji, and apparently to Julian, it radiated a cold, heavy aura. The cover felt like human skin. The letters DEATH NOTE were scrawled in a font that screamed ancient malice.
Kenji held it out.
"Read the first page," Kenji challenged.
Julian hesitated. He looked at the notebook, then at Kenji. Curiosity—the fatal flaw of all geniuses—won out. He took the book.
He opened it.
The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
Julian read the rule. Then he read the next one. And the next.
Kenji watched the transformation. It was subtle. Julian's posture shifted. His shoulders relaxed. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, not in a polite smile, but in a smirk of genuine amusement.
[System Alert: Target 'Julian Thorne' is engaging with the Prop. Resonance increasing to 100%.]
"This is... a script prop?" Julian asked, looking up. His eyes were shining.
"It's the central character," Kenji lied smoothly. "The story is about a student like you. Someone who finds this book. Someone who decides that the world is rotting, and he's the only one who can clean it up."
Julian ran his thumb over the black leather. "To cleanse the world... sounds arrogant."
"It is. He becomes a mass murderer. The world calls him a villain. He calls himself Justice."
Julian closed the book. He held it tight, not giving it back.
"When do we start?"
Kenji grinned. "Tonight. But first, we need your enemy."
( To be Continued)